Journal of Dreams
by StrongHermione
Summary: Hermione has been given a new journal in which she writes steamy, historical fantasies. Fantasies starring a certain blond wizard of the Slytherin persuasion. Little does she know her Journal of Dreams is exactly that, and what she writes, the participants dream of - explicitly. Rated M; EWE?; Eighth Year; AU; DM/HG
1. I In the Time of the Founders

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters or locations you recognise are the intellectual property of these individuals and corporations. I make no money from the writing of this story._

_I chose a prompt for a Dramione Fest on Live Journal but did not get the story completed in time. As I am currently suffering from a writer's block of gargantuan proportions, I went back through my hard drive and found this story, so I polished it up a bit and thought I would post it. Hopefully some cracks will start to appear and I can get on with the stories I am supposed to be writing._

_The prompt for this story is:_ _Either Draco or Hermione begin writing their wildest fantasies (set throughout history) about the other in a journal. Somehow, these fantasies begin to come true in their dreams. Their shared dreams._

And now I give you:

**Journal of Dreams**

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**I. In the Time of the Founders**

Hermione Granger snuggled under the blankets of her dormitory bed in Gryffindor Tower. It was early but she was freezing on this winter night and took herself off to the comfort and quiet of the warm room, hoping that by the time she was ready for sleep her body would be toasty and comfortable.

Reaching into the drawer of her bedside table, she extracted a pen and a new journal which was still in its wrapping. She smiled at the packaging which proclaimed it to be a _Journal of Dreams_. Her close friend, Ginny Weasley had given it to her for Christmas as she had noticed Hermione's other journal was becoming full. Hermione did indeed spend a lot of time writing in her journal but it was not about her life or dreams as everyone assumed. Ever since she was a little girl, Hermione had been writing fictional stories in journals as a way of developing her imagination and escaping into fantasy worlds of her own creation. If one were to look back over her writings (and Hermione had them warded tight to prevent this) they would have read stories of escapades in London and Paris, stories where Hermione was plucked from obscurity and groomed to become a world-famous scholar, dancer or musician and stories set against historical moments with hints of romance built in. As she got older, the romances became racier and racier until by now she was almost exclusively writing sex scenes set in various situations and locations throughout the world and history.

She cast one more warming charm on her blankets before she opened the wrapping on her new journal and cracked it open. On the first page she wrote, _Property of Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Tower_. She then tapped her wand against the book so anyone other than herself who opened it would only be able to read those words. She turned to the second page and rested the nib of her pen against the page. This was always an exciting moment for her—a clean page, ready to have a fresh, new idea come to life on it.

_The journey to the castle at the beginning of the year was arduous. If it was not for the close friendship between my father and Godric Gryffindor I would never have consented to come up here to the wilds of Scotland just to spend one year under the great wizard's tutelage. As Father said though, we must do all we can to help the endeavours of our friends, and this school is something that has been sorely needed for many years. If I were even a year younger it may have made more sense for me to undertake this adventure. But if I were a year younger, perhaps what happened to me this day would not have occurred._

_There are currently fifty students undertaking their studies in the castle. We range in age from eleven, the traditional age for students to begin formal magic training, and by far the largest class of students, up to myself and Master Malfoy who are the only students in our eighteenth year of birth. We study mainly under the guidance of our Heads of House and we appear to be fairly evenly split among them. I, of course, have the great Godric Gryffindor as my mentor. There is also the stunning and brilliant witch, Rowena Ravenclaw; the motherly, charming, Helga Hufflepuff; and the dashing, dangerous wizard, Salazar Slytherin. Although the majority of my classes are with Professor Gryffindor, I have the others for Charms, Herbology and Potions respectively. These and Transfiguration are the four classes I share exclusively with Master Malfoy._

_What an enigma this young man is. Until earlier this evening he was nothing less than the thorn in my side; constantly belittling me on account of my feminine gender and deriding my status within our world simply because my great-grandmother was born to muggles and not wizards. I have taken great delight over the last months in beating him in as many examinations as possible but I would be lying if I said my breath did not hitch and my heart beat a little faster every time he turned his stone grey eyes onto me._

_I do not understand what is so captivating about him. Yes, he is tall; a little over six feet. He has a pleasing countenance and his breast plate is enticing. I saw him with his mentor several weeks ago undertaking staff training, and to see his long, hosed legs moving masterfully about the field made me wonder just how powerful he might be in other situations._

_Things came to a head today when we were left alone during our Charms class. Professor Ravenclaw was called away due to an incident involving her daughter and the son of Baron Tempus. As our class had just started, she instructed us to continue with our reading and make detailed notes regarding the new Patronus Charm which is reported to ward off the vile Dementors._

_At first the pair of us was silent, diligently working on our assignments. Obviously Master Malfoy soon became bored with our task and began to act delinquently. He started by flicking small pieces of parchment at me, hoping to distract me enough to cause a reaction. I was not about to give him the satisfaction. I thought he had given up when he turned back to his notes and began writing, only to be proved wrong when a lewd drawing floated over to my desk and settled right onto the page I was reading._

_Angrily, I stood up to confront him. "What is your grievance, Master Malfoy?" I shouted. My bosom was heaving with the aggravated breaths I was taking. I could not help but notice his transfixed gaze and, to my mortification, I blushed under his scrutiny. The blush shook him from his stupor and a satisfied smirk stole over his features. I was perturbed to realise I had just given him what he was looking for._

"_You mistake me, my Lady Granger," he drawled. "I have no grievance with you. Just a desire to ruffle your pretty feathers. Pray tell me, just how far does that enticing blush descend down your décolletage?"_

_I immediately turned around to hide myself from his intense examination. Thus I was unprepared when I felt the heat of his body at my back, and the gentle pressure of his hands as they trailed up my velvet covered arms, coming to gently caress the skin of my neck. My breathing turned ragged as he swept my long hair over my shoulder, exposing the slim column of my throat to his hot breath._

"_Why," he whispered, the air from his words tickling the sensitive skin of my ear and causing a pleasurable thrill to manifest in the pit of my stomach. "I can see your discomfort extends far down your body, milady, perhaps farther than any man has ever seen." One of his hands moved over the front of my dress, fleetingly caressing my breast and firmly pressing over my abdomen, losing itself in the folds of my skirt and tantalisingly rubbing over my thigh. I could not help it, my legs were trembling and I had to get a better purchase on my stability, so I widened my stance slightly, allowing his hand to slip to my inner thigh._

_His shocked gasp only momentarily stopped him. "My Lady Granger, I believe you want this," he breathed. His lips descended to the sensitive skin where my neck met my shoulder and he began to lay wet kisses at the juncture, sucking and soothing in turns while his hand at my thigh kept busy and his other began gently caressing my breast. The heat at the back of me grew and I knew he was becoming affected as well. As though they had minds of their own, my own hands moved—one to cover his at my breast, encouraging it to apply more pressure and the other to wind itself in Malfoy's soft, blond hair. The hand that was busy at my leg came back up to my face as he gripped my chin and turned my head toward him. With nary a warning, he captured my lips with his own and turned me so I faced him fully._

_Oh how he teased me with those sinful lips of his. He gave as much as he took, gently nipping at my lips and nudging them open. Rubbing his full lips against mine, he was able to insinuate his tongue with little effort. The pleasurable thrills began to explode in my stomach; I wanted more from this man in front of me. I boldly ran my hand up his arm and sought out the fastenings of his breastplate. With an assurance I think surprised him; I nimbly undid the catches holding his armour together and let it drop to the floor. He was left standing in his tunic and hose, his codpiece more exposed than ever. I took a moment to map the planes of his body with my hands as we continued kissing. His armour was form-fitting it seemed. The muscles on his chest were well defined under the silk fabric and I already knew his legs were pleasing to the eye._

_By now he had unlaced the stays of my dress and was tugging it down to expose my breasts to his eyes. Willing myself not to blush any further, I boldly met his eye and grasped his hand to place it on the bare skin of the sensitive orb. His eyebrows rose at my forthright behaviour—perhaps he was not used to having a lady participate quite so willingly. His next comments were clearly fishing for confirmation of his thoughts._

"_Methinks the lady is not quite as inexperienced as one might believe," he whispered huskily. He bent his head and began to kiss his way down my jaw, neck and chest until his wet, velvet tongue was licking the swell of my breast, inching closer and closer to the peak where my sensitive nipple rested. I arched into him as his lips closed around the stiff bud, suckling as would a newborn babe taking his first meal. A moan escaped my own lips, feelings I had only fleetingly experienced once before were shooting straight from my nipple and ending at the juncture of my thighs where I could feel moisture beginning to gather. "Have you been deflowered?" he asked._

_I nodded, not being able to trust my voice at this moment. One of my father's knights had performed the task several days before my departure to Scotland. Kidnappings were common on such a journey and my parents knew I would be a prime target if I was pure. My mother stated that a man knew if a maiden had been touched, and it would save me if I undertook the perilous journey as a woman rather than a girl. Sir Ronald had not been the most ardent lover, but he got the job done._

"_Did the knave take care of you?" he asked harshly._

"_He was a knight in my father's service," I corrected him._

"_But did he take care of you?" Malfoy repeated._

"_I… I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered. The growl he let out at my answer had moisture pooling between my thighs again. _

"_Then what you are about to experience will be unlike anything you ever have," he vowed. With a little tug, he pulled my dress down, the sumptuous fabric pooling at my feet and leaving me naked to his heated gaze. In a fluid movement, he pulled his tunic over his head and untied his codpiece. The tent in his hose indicated that he was one of those rare men who actually needed a codpiece of the size he wore. Since being bedded by my father's knight, my mother had confided to me several secrets of men, the main one being to never rely on the size of a man's codpiece to determine his virility. Indeed, Sir Ronald's codpiece contained nothing but a lot of air. I watched as Malfoy pulled off his boots and lowered his hose, his erection springing free from its confines. He grasped me about my waist and lifted me to sit on the desk._

_After using his wand to raise the height of the desk to the correct level, he thrust his glorious member against my wet quim. "Are you ready?" he panted. I could do nothing but nod. Even though he had barely touched me, his breath against my ear, his searing kisses and divine attention to my breasts had more than prepared me for the ultimate joining of our bodies. He reached down with one hand and probed for my opening. Lifting my legs to hook them around his hips, he thrust into me in one smooth move. Both of us shouted in joy and he had to pause at the overwhelming sensation of us being as close as it was possible for two humans to be._

_I could not help myself. I needed him to move. With a flex of my hips and using my ankles to push him further into me, I indicated my desire for us to begin the primal dance. Before long, he was thrusting in and out of my body with abandon, his head thrown back toward the heavens and the most glorious howls of satisfaction emanating from his throat. As for myself, I now knew what he meant about being taken care of. Sir Ronald had not elicited anything close to the feelings I was now experiencing. I felt every inch of my second lover's hard, glorious manhood as it pulled out and pushed into me over and over, continually brushing over a spot deep inside of me that I was sure was causing the most intense feeling of pleasure I had ever known to course through my body. _

_His thrusts sped up, until the only thing I was aware of was the continual pounding of his hips against mine and a building pressure deep within my body that was just waiting to explode. It did so without warning. Every muscle in my body tensed all of a sudden and after a long moment of suspense, the most wonderful feeling of satisfaction radiated throughout me. I could feel every inch of my body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I was screaming with the joy of it even as I felt Malfoy tense himself and then, with a roar unlike anything I had ever heard, he shot a copious amount of warm fluid up into me. Unable to stand under his own strength, he collapsed on top of me, his member still pulsing within my channel._

_With panting breaths against my neck, he said, "That was wonderful. You are unlike any woman I have had before."_

_I kissed the side of his face tenderly. "You were wonderful too," I told him._

"_I shall come to your chambers tonight, after sunset," he promised. _

"_I will be waiting," I promised in return. Reluctantly, we moved from our positions and helped each other to redress. _

_By the time Professor Ravenclaw returned, we were both back in our seats, our parchments half-filled with notes about our assignment. I could not help the secretive smile though, every time I thought about what the night would bring._

Hermione laid down her pen and re-read what she had written. _'Whew!'_ she thought, fanning her face with her hand. _'Malfoy—that was a surprise.'_ Hermione always just let her words flow without thinking too much about them. She, Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom were the only students from their year who had returned to Hogwarts to complete their NEWTs following the end of the recent war. She shared every class with the blond Slytherin and, following his sincere apology on the train at the start of the school year, they had struck up something of a cordial friendship. Lately Hermione had found herself wondering what the wizard might be like in an intimate situation, it was no wonder he had made his first appearance in one of her stories. With a smug grin, she put her new journal and pen back into her drawer and settled down onto her pillow. Knowing herself as she did, she knew he would star in several more of her racy fantasies over the coming days and weeks. She wondered if he ever might think of her that way in real life.

As soon as she dropped off to sleep, the journal, hidden from all eyes in her bedside drawer, began to glow. Two strong strands of light, no bigger than a hair each reached out from the book—one seemed to disappear inside Hermione's head, another flew unseen out of Gryffindor Tower and down into the dungeons where it insinuated itself into the brain of the slumbering Draco Malfoy. A third, much weaker strand wafted up the chimney in the dormitory room and headed off to parts unknown. In the sub-consciousness' of the recipients of the strong strands, the exact scenario Hermione wrote played in their dreams. Hermione slumbered peacefully, a satisfied smile on her face as the satisfaction she wrote about manifested in her dream.

In the Slytherin dormitory though, Draco Malfoy suddenly bolted up from his sleep, breathing deeply and finding himself having to deal with a sticky situation that had not been a problem for several years.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked the empty room.

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_I hope you enjoyed the beginning._


	2. II The Inquisition is Coming

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters or locations you recognise are the intellectual property of these individuals and corporations. I make no money from the writing of this story._

_THANK YOU for all for the reviews, favourites and follows. Remember Hermione is writing fantasies and stories, they are not supposed to be realistic or particularly historically accurate. I hope you enjoy this next chapter._

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**II. The Inquisition is Coming**

Draco watched the Gryffindor Golden Girl closely for the next several days, wondering exactly what it was that had made him dream about her so explicitly. It was uncanny; the detail and intensity of the encounter. He could not think of a time in real life where he had felt so sated and complete as he did just from that one dream with her; and what about the situation? Their clothes alone would be counted as by far and away the weirdest subliminal fantasy he had ever been involved in, let alone the richness of the details of the back story to the dream. _'Ravenclaw was actually teaching us! And I was staff training with Slytherin himself!'_

Despite going over the dream in detail every night, he did not experience the sub-conscious encounter again. It was certainly fuelling his conscious fantasies though! In the three days since, he had wanked more often than when he first discovered the appendage between his thighs was designed for a much more pleasurable use than just pissing.

His examination of the pretty brunette did nothing to enlighten him as to his sudden, seemingly unwarranted attraction. Yes, they had been cordial to one another this year, friendly one could even say. There was still a schism between them though. She was the Brains of the Golden Trio, Gryffindor's Princess and a witch all but declared untouchable by the male population. Why, there was even talk that her engagement to Ron Weasley would be announced any day now. Who was he? An ex-Death Eater currently on strict probation and with only a slim hope that he may be able to hold his head up in decent society again one day. She was in fact one of the only students that acknowledged him on a regular basis—her, Longbottom, the She-Weasley and Looney Lovegood! A member of the Golden Trio and the three that had been dubbed the Silver Trio due to their actions in the school last year were the only ones willing to give him the time of day.

'_It's just because she is the only one you find even remotely attractive that is willing to talk to you,'_ he told himself firmly. That had to be it. Because there was no way he could start falling for the highly intelligent, brilliant, beautiful Hermione Granger. No way.

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It was late on Friday night. Hermione had excused herself from the impromptu party being held in the common room and headed up to her dormitory. Her muse it seemed had come to visit and demanded her presence immediately. Hermione did not mind, she had had enough of the noise and merriment for one evening. She settled herself into her bed with her journal and pen. She quickly read over what she had written the previous week, smiling wickedly as she bit her bottom lip. _'Whew, that got me going a bit again. I think Malfoy might play another starring role tonight,'_ she thought. _'Maybe I'll even dream it again.'_ Her smile turned into a smirk at that thought. She closed her eyes and let inspiration wash over her. An idea formed and she took some time to plot the scenario out in her mind before putting pen to paper.

_When will I learn not to be so stubborn? _'Stay at the castle,'_ they said. _'It's dangerous for our kind out there,' _they told me. Did I listen? No, of course I didn't. If there was a charm that could rid me of this wilful, stubborn streak of mine I would employ it in a second. It is for this reason, and none other, that I now find myself sequestered in a dingy cellar below a concealed trap door in the dead of winter with Draco Malfoy of all people!_

_The Inquisition has come. For months everyone said it would and there was a slow migration of our kind north. Oh yes, some said there was nothing to worry about—a freeze-flame charm and everything would be as right as rain. But then they introduced the rack. There is no charm, potion or counter-spell to stop the ravages of being tortured with that instrument. We all saw McLaggen when he was burned at the stake following weeks of interrogation on the rack. He had no energy left for a freeze-flame charm! Just imagine if the muggles had been more aware of the sudden disappearance of people in the square that day… I've never seen so many witches and wizards in a true panic like that before._

_But of course, even then I stubbornly hung on to the idea that I would be safe. I would be cleverer than any so-called witch hunter that tried to capture me. Some traitorous wizard was assisting the Inquisitors—an anti-apparition jinx had been cast over the city of London so escape was almost impossible. If it wasn't for the Ashtons taking me in, I don't know what I would have done. Tavington was literally yards away from me—how I managed to seek shelter in the one doorway that concealed a sympathetic family of Squibs who were willing to help me, I'll never know. The door opened and I was pulled inside. The man of the house lied to Tavington's face about my whereabouts while I hid under a pile of blankets, willing myself to stay as still as a statue. As soon as the captain left I was brought to the cellar where _he_ was already hiding._

_It's been six days now. Food and drink is lowered twice a day and we know that three sharp thumps on the floor above mean we must immediately extinguish the candles and be completely silent. I have heard soldiers on a daily basis demanding if the occupants of the house are harbouring any criminals and late last night I heard Tavington again. I was shaking so badly that _he_ gathered me into his arms and held me tightly, breathing sounds and words of comfort into my ear to calm me down. His hot breath only served to work me up though and ever since, all I can remember is feeling the security of his embrace and the way the hot air from his mouth felt against the sensitive skin of my neck and ear. I almost found myself hoping Tavington would return tonight, just so I could relive the experience again._

_I have been attracted to Draco Malfoy ever since I observed him riding a Pegasus about the Hogwarts grounds one afternoon during our sixth year of study. He looked like a God on that magnificent beast—the way he sat his saddle and controlled the wild stallion brought a flutter to many a girl's heart that day, none more than mine though. I began to surreptitiously observe him any chance I got. It was not much—he was in Slytherin and I was in Gryffindor after all so it was only in a few classes and at meal times that I was able to get a glimpse of him and I had to be especially careful that my housemates did not see my regard._

_But oh, how handsome was this wizard? I don't believe there was a single man in that castle who could compare—his angelic blond hair, Nordic in its lustre and, I'm sure, soft to the touch; his beautiful, perfect face and strong, virile body. I resigned myself to the fact that I would only ever be destined to look at the aristocratic young man, my father's status as a mere squire put paid to any hope of a dalliance, let alone a romance, between us. Spending nearly a week in such close quarters with him has been torture! No, not torture… I should not be flippant when I know what real torture is out there waiting for me should Tavington capture me, but it is a trial nevertheless._

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

_Malfoy immediately douses the tiny, flickering flame and seeks my hand in the darkness. My heart is beating so fast it is a wonder he cannot hear it. Voices filter in from above. Not Tavington this time, but the soldiers are here in his name. _

'_We know Mistress Granger was seen in these streets last week! Where is she? Her neighbour accused her of witchcraft. You and yours have been sympathetic to the plight of these heathens in the past. Captain Tavington knows she and Sir Draco have gone to ground in these parts and they will be found! This is your last warning!'_

'_We know of no witchcraft, sir. We are not sympathetic to the heathens; they will rot in hell for going against the teachings of our glorious church. You may take apart this house brick by brick, plank by plank and I swear by God, you will find none here but those who are faithful to our Father and wish to see all witches burning.'_

'_Just know that you will suffer the same fate should you be found harbouring those who practice the deceitful and hedonistic rites of demon worshipping.'_

_There is silence but for the heavy footfalls of boot-clad feet on the floorboards above. Mr Ashton is surely going to tell us to leave—we are endangering his family. All we can hear for many minutes is the light scuffling of the family as they go about their business. Finally there are two sharp taps on the trapdoor and it is opened, the face of Mr Ashton visible in the light from above._

_Malfoy relights the candle in our hideaway and takes the bread, meat and ale that is passed down._

'_You will remain here another four nights,' Mr Ashton whispers to us. 'My brother will arrive on the following morn and provide you with a portkey to Hogsmeade. Once there—ssh! They're coming back!' I hastily snubbed the candle again as Mr Ashton dropped the trapdoor down quietly. Malfoy stuffed the food and drink into an empty box. 'Captain Tavington, may the Lord bless and keep you, sir.'_

_A whimper threatens to leave my mouth but I resolutely keep silent. I can feel my body start to shake again and Malfoy silently lowers me to the pallet I have been sleeping on, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close again._

'_I assure you, the good Lord blesses me above all others, Ashton,' the cultured voice of Tavington reaches our ears. 'What are you keeping in your cellar?'_

'_Just dried meat, my lord, and a stash of ale… would you like to take a look?' Mr Ashton offers. Malfoy stiffens behind me and tightens his hold on me even further._

'_It is my experience that men who offer for me to look in their cellar are hiding the most in there,' Tavington taunts. I suddenly feel a tap on my head, and a feeling like cold water running down my body. Malfoy has cast a disillusionment charm. I grasp his arms and hold him tight as the light from above floods down into the cellar. I can see the cold eyes of the Inquisitor and dredge up every ounce of will to move not an inch from the position I am in._

'_I do hide my gold in there as well, my lord. I pray you would not find that as it means I have not hidden it well,' Mr Ashton jokes. I can see him in the background. There is not even a flicker of emotion on his face that would give us away. Tavington peers down into the gloom, staring directly at us for what seems like an eternity but is in reality only a few moments before he stands up and drops the trapdoor back into place._

'_My men have warned you what to expect should we find these heathens on your premises. You would do well to remember that.'_

'_Of course, Captain Tavington, you may rest assured I would report the presence of any practitioners of witchcraft to you immediately.'_

'_See that you do.' The sound of heavy footsteps crosses the floor above us and we hear the door slam shut. We know there will be no further visit from Mr Ashton tonight and Malfoy cancels the disillusionment charm on us. The feeling of utter relief that flows through my body leaves me feeling weak. I turn my head into the blanket and begin to sob, I am overwrought and Malfoy just continues to hold me. I feel him begin to rock me gently as I cry; he turns me so I am facing him and cradles my head against his chest. For several minutes I cling to his robes and allow the terror and distress of my situation flow out of me through my eyes and soak the fine brocade of his apparel._

'_It is all right, Mistress Granger,' he whispers, his voice barely able to be heard. 'You are safe here with me, I will let nothing happen to you, this I vow.' He repeats his promise over and over until I am calm again. Light is filtering in from above through the cracks in the floorboards and a few small holes here and there. I can just make out his features in the dim light as I look up into his eyes. For the first time, it seems, he is returning my regard with his own. His arms are still tight around me and my hands are sandwiched between our chests. I flex my fingers against the hard planes and feel him shiver at my touch. Our faces are so close that our breaths are mingling as we exhale. _

_Without warning, he lowers his face and presses his lips firmly against mine, brushing them and coaxing a response from me, a response I all too willingly give. I would not have thought it possible but his arms tighten around me even more and he turns me onto my back, only letting go when I am lying prone beneath him, his legs trapping mine and his upper body pressed against me oh-so-deliciously. He has not stopped kissing me this entire time, I feel as though I have drunk an entire tankard of ale. _

_He pulls away from me and I cannot help the whimper of distress I make. I feel rather than hear the chuckle rumbling deep within his chest. 'Little One, are you perhaps enjoying my attentions?' he asks. I can do nothing but nod. He leans his face down and whispers in my ear. 'What of more—carnal—attentions? Would you object if I were to kiss you…here?' I shake my head as he places kisses from my ear, all the way down the column of my neck, stopping only at the edge of my robe. Staring deep into my eyes, he gently tugs on the bow of the ribbon holding the bodice of my dress together. As he sees no sign of disapproval in my eyes, he pulls on the tag, the ribbon sliding easily through the fastenings until it comes out completely. The two pieces fall to the sides heedlessly, exposing my heaving bosom to the cold, night air—and his intense gaze. My nipples harden immediately and he lowers his mouth to one of them, sucking it between his lips and laving his tongue over the hard, dusky rose flesh._

_I cannot help but gasp at the feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. I had previously had a summer dalliance with a peasant's son so the feeling was not foreign to me. Boldly, I traced my hand down his front to grasp his hardened member through his britches. Upon doing so, his actions turned almost frantic. He hiked my dress up around my waist and easily removed my undergarments. He pulled down his britches only far enough to free his trapped erection before plunging it into me with one fell thrust. It took every ounce of consciousness left in me not to groan out loud at the feeling of him stretching me so deliciously but I knew the sounds would carry through the boards above us and to the ears of the Ashtons._

_Our coupling was hard and fast. He thrust into me over and over, going much deeper than the peasant's son ever had and brushing against something in me that was sending waves of desire throughout my entire body. I did not know how much longer I could go teetering on the edge of this precipice of pure bliss until with one thrust, I was pushed off and pleasure such as I had never known tore through every nerve ending on my body. I buried my face into his chest as a primal scream rose from deep within me. Luckily no sound louder than a whimper was heard. The continued pulsing of my tight channel must have been too much for him as only a weak thrust or two later, I could feel his man-fluid explode into me and he collapsed heavily onto my body, grunting his pleasure and kissing my neck where he had fallen._

_We lay as such for several minutes until nothing but darkness surrounded us. Silently, we separated and redressed as best we could in the dark. I thought he would retreat back to the pallet he had been sleeping on but he gathered me close in his arms before dropping off to sleep. _

_Suddenly, the next four nights of waiting did not seem such a hardship._

Hermione capped her pen and settled back to read over what she had written. She smiled and even laughed in places. _'My mind truly came out with some cliché's tonight!'_ she thought. Still, the exercise had served its purpose and she was feeling quite relaxed and languid now. She slipped the journal into her bedside table and warded it as usual before settling down amongst her blankets for sleep. Her last conscious thought was to wonder if she would dream her scenario again like last time.

With her eyes closed in slumber, she again had no inkling of the journal glowing and three strands of light this time emerging, one laying itself against her temple and the other two flying out of the room as though caught on a breeze. Her face contorted slightly while she dreamt until a blissful, peaceful smile graced her countenance.

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Down in the dungeons, Draco Malfoy again woke in a tangle of wetted sheets and breathing heavily.

"That was fucking insane," he said to the silent room.

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_Poor Draco, his mind is being messed with, isn't it? I hope you liked this chapter._


	3. III In a Deserted Corridor

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters or locations you recognise are the intellectual property of these individuals and corporations. I make no money from the writing of this story._

_Thank you to all for the reviews, favourites and follows. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. This is the last time that will have a detailed journal entry and it takes just over half the chapter, some of the reviewers were asking about it. _

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**III. In a Deserted Corridor**

Draco could not help but stare at Granger throughout breakfast the next morning. _ 'Why did I dream about her like that again?' _he wondered. This dream was just as detailed as the last in terms of characters and situations. He was not one to usually remember his dreams with such clarity—it was always just a snippet here or there and the overriding emotions that had accompanied them. With both of these sex dreams he had had with Granger, he was able to account for every minute of them.

Practically throwing his cutlery onto his plate, Draco ignored his housemates' curious glances as he stalked from the Great Hall. With no real destination in mind, he soon found himself in the library. A long-ago class in Divination reminded him of the study of dreams. _'Surely these are not prophetic,'_ he scoffed. Of course they could not be prophetic—they were clearly set in the past_. 'In the past… our past lives?'_ he wondered. He strode with purpose over to the small section of the library that housed the books on souls and theories regarding their longevity.

Perusing the spines, he grabbed one that was helpfully entitled _'Your Past Life: A Study of Soul Magic'_. He took the book to one of the study tables and cracked it open. He skimmed down the contents page until he found a promising chapter title: _'How Your Past Life Affects Your Present One'_ and turned to the correct page.

_Although many muggle 'experts' denounce the possibility of past lives, in the magical world it is a phenomenon that has been proven to exist. A magical soul has two choices once it has departed an earthly vessel—become a ghost, or move on to the next great adventure. If a soul chooses to move on, they are immediately faced with another choice—to be reborn in another earthly vessel or to continue to the Great Beyond._

_There is conjecture that once in the Great Beyond, a soul may later choose to live a life again on earth, but the few souls that have had the privilege to even glimpse Nirvana believe that no one would make that choice, instead they may act as guides to souls they know who are facing a choice of their own._

_'That makes sense,'_ Draco thought. Much had been written and talked about following Harry Potter's encounter with Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest during the Final Battle and the interaction he had had with Dumbledore in the hereafter. From what he knew of the man, it would be exactly like Dumbledore to act as a guide for a soul in the veil between the two worlds.

_If a soul chooses to be reborn, there are usually no instances of their past life or lives coming back to them. However it has been known for very young children to speak of memories from an earlier time, referring to a battle or family member they should have no knowledge of. Muggleborn parents often speak of such incidents when it is revealed their child is magical._

_Another area where a past life may make itself known is through dreams. _

Draco sat up at this sentence, as though to prepare himself for what he was about to find out.

_A soul's subconscious may allow snippets of past experiences through in the form of a dream to warn or prepare the current vessel about a future event or events. _

Collapsing back into his chair, Draco re-read the last sentence several times before closing the book shut. "Me and Granger?" he asked quietly. No wonder he was having these dreams. Clearly, he and Granger had been together before in previous lives and now their souls were preparing them for finding each other again. Draco sent the book back to the shelf, believing he had found his answer and not needing to research further on the matter.

He did need to think about it though.

Draco had dreamt on the two previous Friday nights, he would wait and see if it happened again this week. He resolved to practice clearing his mind before sleep and telling himself he was ready to see more of what he had experienced before in order to open his mind even more. He did wonder why the dreams so far seemed to be centred on sex, but came to the conclusion that his soul had decided he needed to be metaphorically hit over the head with the pleasures that awaited him once the fates intervened and he and Granger were actually together. He also began to compose letters in his mind to his parents, explaining a relationship between himself and a Muggleborn, especially _this_ Muggleborn. It would probably also behove him well to ensure his spell arsenal was full as he could only imagine how Potter and Weasley would react to this.

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As the weeks passed, Draco continued to dream—the two of them stuck in a broom cupboard in The Hogshead Inn during the Goblin Rebellion of 1612. Another dream was about the two of them undertaking the long journey from the south of England to Hogwarts by carriage. The days were spent under the watchful eyes of chaperones but the nights were spent in hot lovemaking. Another dream where he was a soldier in a magical army, injured while fighting against Grindelwald's forces and she was his nurse… All historical situations and all just further proving his point that they were true soul mates, seeking each other out in every life.

This one included.

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Hermione curled up on her bed with Crookshanks and her journal. _ 'The next best thing to spending a Friday night with the real thing; writing about him,'_ she thought with amusement. She had not put much thought into the reasons _why_ she was dreaming what she wrote about in such clarity, just putting it down to the fact she was thinking about each scenario in detail, at night, and it was staying with her while she slept.

_'Tonight, tonight, tonight,' _she thought. _'What will I think up for tonight?'_ A few scenarios buzzed around in her head, all with Malfoy as the male lead. "Why do I keep thinking of him, Crooks?" she asked her cat. Crookshanks meowed and yawned, stretching himself on his back, commanding his mistress to scratch his belly to which she obliged. "I guess he is sort of handsome… oh who am I kidding? He is probably one of the hottest guys I've ever seen! Certainly the hottest guy I know. And he has a cute arse," she leant forward and whispered the last part to the part-Kneazle.

"But hotness and a cute arse aren't really going to make a happy relationship, are they? I don't even know him that well. Do you think I should maybe try and talk to him?" Crookshanks lifted his head and stared at her for a moment before lying back down. "Well, you didn't walk away so I suppose that means you're willing to listen to me," Hermione said with a fond smile. "He doesn't insult me anymore, not to my face at any rate. Next time I see him, I'm going to strike up a conversation," she resolved with a nod of her head. She had noticed that no one really spoke to him or hung around him anymore. The war had taken a massive toll on his family's reputation.

Hermione knew that Lucius had somehow managed to escape Azkaban again. She wondered how much of the family fortune went to securing him a simple house arrest rather than more time spent in the island-prison fortress. Narcissa had been cleared on all counts she had been charged with based on Harry's testimony that she had lied to Voldemort in order to reach her son in the castle. Harry averred that that action alone turned the battle in favour of the light and allowed it to be drawn to a final conclusion. Draco had spent the summer under house arrest and a strict probationary period repeating his seventh year. If he stayed out of trouble until the NEWTs were completed, he would be allowed to start with a clean slate. While he was not blameless for his actions, he had been heavily pressured into committing and aiding in crimes by the Death Eaters. The Wizengamot thought he should be punished for it, but not have it follow him for the rest of his life.

Sighing, Hermione put all of that out of her mind and concentrated on her task at hand. She was finding these little scenarios were very helpful at relieving some of the pressure she had placed on herself and, as she had always done, found the writing to be quite relaxing. _'I'm getting a little bit sick of the history scenarios,'_ she thought as she tapped the end of her pen against her lips. She pondered for a while longer before a wicked looking smirk bloomed on her lips. With a glint in her eyes, she put pen to paper for her next setting:

_I'm waiting for him. He's been watching me for days, staring at me as though I were something delicious for him to eat. Well, I'm going to turn the tables on him._

_I know he passes this way on his patrols. No one wants to do rounds with him anymore. Like he's really going to hurt anybody with the amount of scrutiny he is under. After tonight, I will volunteer to join him but for now…_

_I can hear his footsteps as they approach. Surprise is of the essence—he cannot know what's coming. Stealthily, I point my wand around the corner and just enough of my head in order to see what I'm doing; I don't want to hurt him after all. Using a non-verbal spell, I stun him and levitate him into the nearby room I've set up. I tie him to a chair and remove his trousers and pants. Leaving his shirt on, but unbuttoned, I gently wake him. He is groggy for a few moments until he realises he is practically naked and tied to a chair, then his eyes dart around the room until he comes to rest on my form. He is wary—he does not know whether or not he can relax. If he knew what I had in mind he would not be so wound up, but I know he cannot afford to let his guard down around anyone._

_I hope to change that for him tonight._

_I approach slowly, ensuring that he sees my wand is nowhere in sight, my hands are bare. I rake my eyes over his body hungrily. His cock, currently lying limply against his thigh, twitches at my blatant perusal. I notice his expression of dismay; I do not know if it's because he is embarrassed about me seeing his growing excitement or if it's because he doesn't want to get excited. I sincerely hope it is the former; I want to make him comfortable, and I definitely want him excited._

_With what I hope is a reassuring smile, I kneel down in front of him and place my hands on his knees. I smile at how shaky they have suddenly become._

_"W-what do you w-want, Granger?" he asks me with a croaky edge to his voice._

_"I want you to relax," I tell him. "Relax and enjoy." With that I begin to rub tiny circles on his legs with my fingertips. I lean in and place a soft kiss to the inside of his left knee. Looking directly at him, I slowly kiss, lick and nip my way up the almost unyielding flesh of his muscled thighs, enjoying the flash of emotions that constantly cross his face—curiosity, desire, fear, anxiousness, bewilderment, lust and excitement to name a few. I am nearly at the juncture of his groin when I pull back. Hearing Draco's groan of disappointment and seeing the accompanying moue on his face brings a mischievous smile to my own and I copy the path I just took, this time on his right leg. _

_As I make my way up his right thigh, I push his legs wider apart. His breathing has become ragged as his exposure to me has become more explicit. I have kept my eyes on his face the whole time, wanting him to see he has nothing to fear from me, he only need feel excitement and anticipation of the pleasure I am going to bring him. His cock has obviously not listened to his brain which has clearly been broadcasting his discomfort; it stands proudly from its nest of golden hairs and is what gives me the courage to continue. That and the fact that the negative emotions are one-by-one disappearing from his countenance. I lean forward slowly, giving him ample time to voice an objection to what I am about to do but I can only see a feral gleam of lust in his eyes now. I smile at him before opening my mouth and breathing hotly onto the tip of his erection. His erotic moan is all the encouragement I need and I close my lips over the head, sucking it into my mouth and working my tongue all over the portion of his cock it can reach._

_"Oooohhhh…" His long, drawn out moan only spurs me on. I release him from the confines of my mouth and proceed to lick up and down his impressive length as though it is an ice lolly about to melt all over my hands. Going with that metaphor, I start to suck on it in places, imagining little drops of sweet liquid would fall off if I didn't. The gentle thrusting of his hips and his sensual moans tell me clearly that he is enjoying the experience now. _

_With the very tip of my tongue, I trace the most prominent vein from the base of his cock to the head where I delve into the tiny slit from which is almost gushing a clear, tangy fluid. Licking up as much of the liquid as I can, I once again look into his eyes before plunging my mouth down as far as it will go._

_"Fuck, Granger! Fuuuuccckkk…" His initial outburst had been when he felt the tip of his cock hitting the back of my throat. His second, long drawn-out curse was made as I slowly draw my head up, sucking the whole way. I swirl my tongue once around the head before repeating the motion over and over—plunge, suck, swirl. _

_I keep one hand firmly around the base of his penis, both to keep it in the position I want and to make sure I do everything possible to draw this experience out. With my other hand, I caress his bollocks and venture my finger to rub his perineum, all the way back to the little indent made by his anus and forward again to his bollocks. I have reduced the male above me to nothing more than a writhing, thrusting mass of moans and curses, interspersed liberally with my name which had changed somewhere along the line from 'Granger' to 'Hermione'. _

_Taking a deep breath, I force myself to relax for the next step. I had slowly manoeuvred both of our positions into one that would be most suitable for this action. I take the hand that had been playing gently with his bollocks and brace it firmly over his hips to limit his thrusts. With my other hand still gripping the base of his cock I lower my mouth down over it, going further than I yet had. I can feel the tip moving further into my throat, my natural gag reflex starting to activate. I force the feeling down, thinking over and over, _'banana, banana, banana,'_ which I had been practicing with over the last several weeks in preparation for this moment. I manage to get most of the way down before the need for air forces me back up again. I quickly retreat, gulping in two huge lungfuls of air as soon as his cock pops from my mouth._

_Without wasting a moment, I inhale another huge amount of air and plunge straight back down again. I am determined to make my nose meet the skin above his penis. My tongue is undulating along the entire underside of his cock while I hold it in my throat. I can feel it pulsing within my mouth and it is after my third attempt at taking in his full length that the noises from above me finally permeate my single focus._

_"Yes… Yes… YES!" he chants over and over. He is struggling in his bonds. "Please, Hermione… please!" he begs._

_"Please what?" I ask him, panting as I recover my breath._

_"I don't… I need… Oh, God, I need to come!" he almost whines. I grin evilly and sink my mouth straight back down onto him, finally achieving my goal and taking in his full length. In order to do so, I have to let go of his base and I also loosen my hold slightly on his hips. The combination of the two forces an explosive reaction from him and he barely has time to warn me before his body instinctively thrusts up, forcing him even further down my throat and his hot, male essence flows from his penis, and down my pharynx into my stomach. He lets out a primal roar as I swallow convulsively, determined to not allow a single drop to escape but again, the need for air becomes paramount and I lift off him, the last, weak spurts hitting my lips and chin as they are expelled from his body._

_He collapses onto the chair, gasping, moaning and still thrusting his hips weakly. I wipe my chin and lick my lips to clean them from his juices. He struggles again in his bonds and I wave my wand which has been sitting by the chair this whole time and free him from his confines. He immediately reaches for me and hauls me up and into his lap, crushing his lips against mine, heedless of any of his essence that might still be lingering there. The way his tongue is plundering my mouth it seems as though he is almost trying to climb into me to retrieve it. _

_When we finally part, he looks into my eyes, an expression of tenderness and wonder on his face. It almost humbles me to see it and know I put it there. He caresses his hand through my hair as he asks, "Why?"_

_"Because I wanted to," I say firmly._

_"But—" I place a finger over his lips, stopping his question._

_"I wanted to give you pleasure," I tell him. _

_He kisses me again, gentler this time, and holds me close. "You only had to ask," he says._

_I smirk at him. "You didn't like the element of surprise?" I ask, neatly avoiding the fact that asking him would have necessitated a conversation I think neither of us was ready for. By jumping in with two feet as it were, we have saved ourselves from days, possibly weeks, of wondering what the other person hoped to gain or would want from such an encounter. _

_"The element of surprise would have been fine," he says cagily. "The stunning, stripping and tying me to a chair might have been a bit over-the-top."_

_"I'm a Gryffindor," I remind him. "We tend to go charging head first into situations. You didn't seem to mind once you knew you were safe. Are you telling me to ask you next time?"_

_"I didn't mind at all once I knew I was safe," he assures me. "By all means, feel free to surprise me like this any time you like. I find myself wondering now if there are other activities you might like to explore with me."_

_I give him a saucy grin and lick at his chin playfully. "All in good time," I tell him. "It's my turn to patrol the Prefect's Bathroom tomorrow night; maybe I'll catch you in there…" I kiss his chin, "after curfew…" I kiss his nose, "out-of-bounds…" I kiss each of his cheeks, "naked…" I whisper before kissing his lips and enticing him to deepen the kiss._

_"Maybe," he says huskily as we separate._

_With a final, soft smile, I get up off his lap and saunter to the door. With a wave, I exit, leaving him to redress himself and emerge at his own pace. I am suddenly looking forward to tomorrow night…_

Hermione smiled as she recapped her pen. _'If only this were true,'_ she thought wistfully. She had indeed been practising her oral techniques on bananas in recent weeks, in the confines of her curtained bed of course. She thought she was doing a very good job so far but she knew she would never have the true courage to act out a scene like the one she had just written. _'My God,'_ she thought, _'this reads almost as if I raped him!'_ she realised as she read the first part again. Vaguely uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts had taken, she closed her journal and placed it in her bedside drawer. Just before she dropped off to sleep, she consoled herself with the thought that she had written about his eventual consent. If she was ever to try something like that, he might just like it. Not that she would of course.

As had been the case every previous time, after Hermione was deeply asleep, two strong strands of light emerged from the glowing journal, one sinking into her head and the other wafting out the door.

In his dormitory, Draco woke to a sated feeling he had not experienced in quite some time. Having long accepted what his dreams were telling him, this time his sub-conscience had greeted the vision almost like an old friend. Now that he was awake, Draco could have almost sworn he had physically experienced having Hermione go down on him and give him the best blow job of his life! He wondered if their souls were starting to prepare them for the real thing now, as he had clearly been conducting a patrol and she was in her Gryffindor uniform. _'Come to think of it, I will be patrolling that corridor tomorrow night,'_ he realised. Surely Fate had not suddenly bestowed the gift of prophecy on him? _'Either way, if she wants to prove in real life that she can give me a blow job like that, she certainly won't hear a complaint from me.'_ Smiling, Draco laid his head back onto his pillow and succumbed to sleep once more.

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_Thanks for reading._


	4. IV Ready for Reality

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters or locations you recognise are the intellectual property of these individuals and corporations. I make no money from the writing of this story._

_Thank you to all for the reviews, favourites and follows. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. We are in the word of reality now, no more journal entries…_

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**IV. – Ready for Reality**

Humming softly as she patrolled the corridors assigned to her, Hermione only absently checked the empty classrooms and alcoves that were on her route. Generally there was never any trouble on Saturday nights; as long as no Quidditch game had taken place that day. This was one of those days. The students had not had an opportunity to raise their adrenaline levels and so they had all lazed about in their common rooms after dinner or kept to the public areas of the castle where inter-house mingling was encouraged.

Hermione turned the corner into a small side corridor that linked two main hallways together. She gasped softly when she came face to face with Draco Malfoy in the dimly lit space; only inches separated them. They stood for several moments, just staring at each other. It was actually the first time they had ever been alone together and with their respective feelings brimming below the surface, the atmosphere was charged between them.

Draco allowed his eyes to rove from Hermione's face down to her cleavage which was heaving slightly as her breath had become shallow. All he could think of was the image from his dream of her on her knees between his legs with his cock disappearing down her throat. He wondered if she was truly capable of that feat or if it was merely a tantalising fantasy for his sub-conscious to prepare him for their possible future.

"Y-you're too c-close, Malfoy," Hermione stuttered. Her voice had taken on a huskiness that she was immediately embarrassed about.

Raising an eyebrow at what he perceived to be a hint of desire in her tone, Draco replied, "I'm sure you like being close, Granger." His eyes blatantly raked from her lips down to her toes and back up. A delightful flush spread over her face and disappeared under her robes. "Especially to me," he whispered the last three words. Since he had begun having and analysing these dreams, he had started to regain some of his previous confidence. He was making a concerted effort to tamp down the natural arrogance that arose with it, recognising that allowing that full reign would only lead to his downfall again.

Hermione bravely met his stare and hoped beyond hope that he was not a proficient Legilimens. All of her recent fantasies starring him were running through her head in a montage and she felt desire beginning to swirl within her. Desire which was heightened rapidly when Draco bent his head and captured her lips in a chaste but blistering kiss. Without even thinking about it, Hermione clasped her hands behind his head and kept him in place, deepening the kiss to his obvious pleasure and agreement.

A distant noise startled the pair and they separated abruptly. Hermione brought her hand to her lips as if to imprint upon them the feelings that Draco had generated. A cackling noise could be heard coming closer.

"Peeves," Hermione and Draco said in unison. They made to move away from the area, neither of them wanting to be caught in whatever scheme the poltergeist might be involved in or dream up on the spot.

"Until next time, Granger," Draco said.

"Next time," Hermione agreed.

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Hermione plonked herself onto the bench at the Gryffindor table the following morning next to Ginny Weasley and opposite Neville Longbottom. As Hermione looked up to greet Neville, she noticed Draco Malfoy directly in her line of sight, intently staring straight at her. Caught in his gaze, she could not help but blush as the memory of his lips on hers washed over her. Who knew a simple kiss could be so intense? She tore her eyes away from his and said good morning to her friends. Both of them were distracted—Ginny by her mail and Neville by the paper and so they only absently returned her greeting, not even noticing the staring match she had been having with the blond Slytherin.

After serving herself some breakfast, Hermione asked Ginny, "Anything interesting in your letter?"

"Meh, this is from Ron," Ginny answered her. Hermione looked at her, interested to hear what her best friend had to say. He had been tending to write one long letter to the two of them since they had started back at Hogwarts rather than having to essentially write the same thing twice. And being Ron they were few and far between. "Nothing very interesting here… Auror training is going well although he still doesn't think it's something he wants to do long term." Hermione nodded, he had been saying that in his last few letters. "He says McLaggen came into work a few weeks ago looking like death warmed over and thinks the Auror Corps might not be for him either."

Hermione scoffed. "As if that arrogant arse joined the Aurors out of a sense of duty," she said with a huff. "He's only interested because he wants all the young girls to swoon over him."

Ginny laughed and kept reading, letting Hermione know here and there what Ron was writing. "Ooh… saucy," she said suddenly. She clasped the letter to her chest and looked at Hermione with a leer. "Someone had a dream about you," she taunted. "A _sex_ dream!" she teased quietly.

"What?" Hermione said in disbelief. "Who? Let me see!" she demanded, trying to grab the letter.

Ginny held it out of her reach and began to read out loud from it. "_'It was mental! Hermione was some lady in olden times and I was a knight and we had sex because her mother was scared she'd be kidnapped on the way to Hogwarts and couldn't go as a virgin! You should have seen the ridiculous size of the codpiece I was wearing! It was just like one of the ones you showed me in that book over the summer, Hermione. For the life of me I don't know how my brain managed to come up with that scenario. Don't worry, Hermione, I'm not telling you this to try and get together or anything, but I thought you could use the laugh.' _" Ginny looked up with amusement, expecting to see the same expression being mirrored back to her. Instead, Hermione was almost as white as a sheet. "What's wrong?" she asked in alarm.

"I have to go!" Hermione announced before jumping up and running out of the hall.

Neville and Ginny exchanged worried glances and hurried after her. By the time they reached the Entrance Hall, she was long gone.

"You check the library, I'll check the dorm," Ginny instructed. Neville nodded and headed straight for the library while Ginny ran up to Gryffindor Tower. She entered their dormitory in time to see Hermione stand up straight from her bedside table, the journal she had given her for Christmas held tight against her chest. "What is it?" Ginny asked her again.

"Where did you get this?" Hermione demanded.

"From George's shop," Ginny said in bewilderment.

"Oh God! What does it do?" she asked shrilly.

"It does nothing, it's a journal!" Ginny said.

"No, no—it can't just be a journal," Hermione said. She began to check the book for enchantments and spells.

"Do you really think I would have given you a _cursed_ diary?" Ginny asked angrily. After what she herself had gone through in her first year, she could not believe her friend would think she was so callous.

This, above everything else, gave Hermione pause. "No, no of course I don't and you wouldn't have, I'm sorry; it's just after last night… and Ron's letter saying McLaggen looked horrible and him dreaming about us having sex—"

"He dreamt about the two of you having sex in the times of knights and ladies, Hermione. He was probably playing chess just before bed and fancied himself as a knight again," Ginny dismissed.

"No, I wrote about it in here," Hermione said, holding the journal up.

"You wrote about you and Ron having sex?" Ginny asked in surprise.

Hermione bowed her head. "Yes," she confessed. "Not explicitly, I was writing a fantasy and an aside to that was that I had lost my virginity to a knight of my father's and I cast Ron in that role in the story. Then another time I wrote another fantasy and in that I said that McLaggen had been tortured on the rack and burned at the stake and then Ron said he showed up to training looking awful and last night…" Hermione trailed off from her explanation to her bewildered friend.

"Last night?" Ginny prompted.

Hermione looked at her with an anguished expression. "Last night I might have kissed Draco Malfoy thinking he really liked me and wanted me when in fact he's probably been dreaming about me because of whatever enchantment is on this journal because I've been dreaming it too and I dream exactly what I write and I've been writing about having sex with Draco," Hermione said very fast without taking a breath.

Ginny's mouth had dropped open. "Let me get this straight," she said. "You've been writing sex fantasies?" Hermione nodded. "About Draco Malfoy?" Hermione nodded again. "And then you've been dreaming about them?" Hermione kept nodding. "And you think the others you have been writing about are dreaming them as well?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Hermione said. "Why else would Ron dream that _exact_ scenario?" she asked, opening her journal to the first entry she had written and thrusting it under her friend's nose. Ginny took the journal and began reading.

"Ginny? Are you up there? Is Hermione with you?" Neville's shout was heard from the bottom of the stairs leading up to the girls' dormitories.

Engrossed as she was in Hermione's journal entry, Ginny did not answer so Hermione called out to him, "Yes, Neville, I'm up here with Ginny,"

"Are you all right?" he asked in concern.

"I'm fine, just some girl issues. You can go back to your breakfast, I'm sorry I worried you."

"That's okay, Hermione, as long as you're all right," he called back.

"I'm fine," she repeated. Assuming Neville had left based on his lack of response, Hermione turned her attention back onto Ginny, realising too late just what she had given her friend to read. Based on the salacious grin on Ginny's face, she had gotten quite a way into the story. Hermione snatched the journal back before she could read any further.

"Hey! I was just getting to the good bits!" Ginny complained.

"That's private!" Hermione snapped.

"It's not private if you hand it to me," Ginny pointed out.

"That's not the point," Hermione said, snapping the book shut. "The point is I've written some very explicit scenarios in there and I dreamed about every single one of them in detail after I did. Ron and McLaggen obviously dreamed about their parts as well and based on last night's performance, so did Draco!"

"Draco?" Ginny asked. "We're calling him Draco now?"

"Malfoy!" Hermione corrected herself.

"Well, whatever we're calling him, I want to know; what happened last night that's got you in such a tizzy?" Ginny asked. Hermione just mumbled something under her breath. "I'm sorry, you seem to think I have special hearing abilities," Ginny said sarcastically. "Again at a normal volume please?"

Hermione sighed. "I was patrolling on the sixth floor and crossed paths with his patrol. He said I clearly liked being close to him and proceeded to kiss me senseless."

"He kissed you?" Ginny asked incredulously. "How was it?"

"Breathtaking," Hermione breathed. "It was the best kiss I have ever had."

"Oh. My. God," Ginny declared.

"But he's clearly under the delusion that I am some sort of sex deviant or something especially after what I wrote two nights ago and he obviously dreamed…" Hermione blushed as she remembered that particular entry. Given she had set it in the present, everything Malfoy dreamed was how she would currently act. _'Thank God no one knows about the banana!'_ she thought. _'Oh my God! What if he was thinking about that?'_

"What did he dream?" Ginny asked excitedly. Whatever Hermione had remembered must have been _hot_ considering how red her friend's face had become.

"Never mind," Hermione dismissed. "How do I fix this?" she asked.

"Don't write in it again," Ginny said as though it were an obvious solution.

"But—" Hermione cut herself off. After the sublime kiss she had shared with the blond man she was interested to see if his talents extended to something that was clearly present in her imagination. _'Then again, maybe I am just setting myself up for disappointment.'_

"But you liked it," Ginny said astutely.

"Yes, I did," Hermione confessed quietly.

"Then do something about it," Ginny told her.

Hermione scoffed. "Yeah, right. I'll just march up to Draco Malfoy and say _'you and me, prefect's bathroom, tonight after curfew'_."

"Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it," Ginny said.

"Don't be stupid," Hermione said. "This was all clearly a misunderstanding and you're right. I'll just stop writing in the journal and everything will go back the way it was." She firmly secured the journal back in her bedside table drawer.

.

Two weeks passed with Hermione resisting the urge to either write more in her journal or to just grab Draco and drag him into the closest broom cupboard and drop to her knees. It did not help that every time she was in the blond man's presence she could almost feel his scorching gaze on her. The few times she did meet his stares she could not mistake the blatant desire to be seen there. It did not help matters any that a twist of violent desire could be felt in her stomach each time as well. She constantly had Ginny in her ear as well encouraging her to talk to Draco, meet up with Draco… make mad, passionate love to Draco.

Hermione was patrolling the corridor outside the prefect's bathroom an hour after curfew on Saturday night. Again there had been no Quidditch that day so the castle was quiet. She had only had to issue one move on warning just before curfew had descended but since then had not run into a soul—alive or dead. Just as she passed the door to the bathroom it opened suddenly and a hand reached out and dragged her in. It was dark inside which was unusual and that caused enough of a hesitation in her to allow her captor to disarm her and run outside the room. She reached the door and tugged on it to no avail before she whirled and screamed at a sudden splash into the huge, filled bath in the centre of the room.

The soft lamps that surrounded the edge of the room flared to life and Hermione's eyes widened when she identified the fully clothed figure of Draco Malfoy emerging spluttering from the depths of the pool.

"What the fuck?!" he shouted once he had surfaced and caught his breath. He looked around wildly until he noticed Hermione still frozen by the door. "Was that really necessary?" he accused. "I know I kissed you out of nowhere but it was two weeks ago and I do recall you seemed to enjoy it. If you had a problem you could have talked to me about it like an adult instead of practically kidnapping me in here then dumping me in the water!"

As he ranted he had exited the pool, dripping water onto the tiles as he stalked over to the pile of clean towels that were kept on a shelf in the corner. Hermione could not help but notice the way his shirt clung to the muscles of his body and her mouth went dry at the thought of stripping the wet cloth off him and attacking his bare skin with her lips.

"Hello! Granger!" Draco called, waving his hand at her. His action caused her to snap out of the trance she was in.

"I was kidnapped too," she said faintly.

"What?"

"I said I was kidnapped in here too. I had no idea anyone else was in here. You didn't disarm me did you?" she asked.

Draco paused the drying of his hair to look at her in worry. "You were disarmed?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "Someone snatched me in here then disarmed me and ran out the door. It's locked. Do you have your wand?"

Draco shook his head. "No, I was disarmed as well." Just as he said this, two wands were shoved under the door along with a note.

Hermione grabbed her wand, the familiar feeling coursing through her as she held the piece of vine wood, relieved that there appeared to be no allegiance change. _'Whoever disarmed me did not have ill intentions then,'_ she concluded. She handed Draco his Hawthorn wand, noticing the look of relief on his face as he reached the same conclusion she had before turning her attention to the note that had accompanied them.

_'You and me, prefect's bathroom, tonight after curfew,'_ it said. Hermione immediately recognised the words she had spoken to Ginny the day she had discovered the journal's mysterious power. She quickly used her wand to set fire to the parchment while silently vowing she would hunt Ginny down at a later date to exact revenge.

"What did it say?" Draco asked urgently. "Who trapped us in here? What do they want with us?"

"Just some fifth years," Hermione dismissed. "We'll be in here a while." Knowing Ginny they would be trapped in there until five minutes before they had to make their final reports to Professor McGonagall for the night. That was still three hours away. _'Hmm, what could we do in three hours?'_ Hermione thought salaciously. The fantasies she had written down, along with all the ones she had dreamed up since Draco had kissed her roared through her brain at lightning speed. She stepped up to him and placed her hands on his chest, toying with the top button of his still-soaked shirt. Hearing his breath hitch as she began to slide the button through its catch, she whispered, "Had any good dreams lately?"

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_One chapter to go; I hope you enjoyed this one. Please leave a review if you would like to._


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